Then she said something, in a low murmur he had to strain to hear: "Together we'd survive."
He stared at her, wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him. All the while, he was overwhelmingly aware of her hand upon his arm. The touch of her fingers was light, but it seemed to burn his skin, flushing him with warmth.
"Wemight survive up here," he admitted, then wished he hadn't spoken when he saw the gleam in Halisstra's eyes.
The alliance he'd just unintentionally committed to would prob-ably be no more solid than his friendship with Pharaun. Halisstra would maintain it as long as it furthered her goals, then would drop it the instant it became inconvenient. Just as Pharaun had aban-doned Ryld, leaving him to face impossible odds, when the pair of them were trying to escape from Syrzan'sstalactite fortress.
Ryld's meditative skills had saved his life then and allowed him to fight his way free. Later, when he'd met up with Pharaun again, the mage had clapped him on the back and pretended that he'd fully anticipated, all along, that Ryld would survive. Why else would he have abandoned his "dearest friend?"
Halisstra gave Ryld a smile that made her look both cunning and beautiful in one. "Here's what we'll do . . ." she began.
Inwardly, Ryld winced at the word "we," but he kept his face neutral as he listened.
Danifae watched from behind a tree as Halisstra and Ryld stood in the ruined temple, talking. It was clear they were plotting some-thing. Their voices were pitched too low for Danifae to hear, and they leaned in toward one another like conspirators. It was also clear, from the quick kiss Ryld gave Halisstra as the conversation ended, that they had become, or would soon become, lovers.
Watching them, Danifae felt a cold, still anger. Not jealousy - she cared nothing for either Ryld or Halisstra - but frustration born of the fact that she had not seduced Ryld first.
Danifae was more beautiful than her former mistress by far. Where Halisstra was lean, with small breasts and slim hips, Danifae was sensuously curvaceous. Halisstra's hair was merely white, where-as Danifae's had lustrous silver tones.
As for Halisstra's face, well, it was pretty enough, with its slightly snubbed nose and common, coal-red eyes, but Danifae had the advantage of skin softer than the blackest velvet, lips that curled in a perpetual pout, and eyebrows that formed a perfect white arch over each of her strikingly colored, pale gray eyes. An advantage she should have used earlier, judging by the display of mawkish sentimentality Danifae had stumbled upon.
Quenthel was already in play, though the older, more experienced priestess was not wholly unaware of Danifae's immediate desires. It didn't take a genius to see why Danifae had seduced the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. It was almost to be expected.
Danifae anticipated a more complicated time of it when she'd have to take on Pharaun and Valas. The Master of Sorcere was wily. He would surely be difficult to fool once things began to turn, but his open dislike of Quenthel gave her something to use. Valas was bought and paid for by House Baenre, and that kind of gold was something Danifae wouldn't likely happen upon anytime soon. That would be delicate. And Jeggred, well. . . .
But Ryld, with this strange infatuation with her soon-to-be-former mistress, would be a tougher nut to crack.
What good was playingsava, she thought, if you don't control all of the game pieces?
Valas strode into the ruins, followed by Pharaun and Quenthel, and, a moment later, by the loping Jeggred. The false smile Halis-stra gave Quenthel and the way Ryld deliberately met Pharaun's eyes, confirmed Danifae's suspicions. Halisstra was preparing to betray her fellow priestess and Ryld his former friend.
Danifae smiled. She didn't know what they were up to - yet - but whatever it was, she was certain it could be turned to her advantage. She walked out into the clearing, joining them.
With a quick snap of her whip, Quenthel motioned for the others to gather around her.
"Valas has found an entrance to the Underdark," she announced. "Once we're safely below, Pharaun will cast a spell. We're going back to the Demonweb Pits. But not all of us. One of you will carry a mes-sage back to Menzoberranzan, to the matron mother."
As Quenthel's eyes ranged over the group, Danifae noted the indecision they held. Quenthel was obviously uncertain whom she could spare - or trust. Seizing her